Lovers' Eyes
by Eternity's Angel of Mercy
Summary: Shepard has succumbed to the pressure of juggling the roles of Captain, Commander, Spectre, and girlfriend. Something has to give. (Breakup one-shot, ME3)


Disclaimer: I recently fell in love with the song "Lovers' Eyes," by Mumford and Sons and wanted to use it in a story so badly.

Please take a listen to the song before reading, since I think the song sets up this story in such a magically sad way. Enjoy! -E

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**Lovers' Eyes**

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"Why are we doing this?"

It was one of the most painful things he had ever heard from her. She had never been one for sweetness or flowery words. She had never been one to sugarcoat things. He admired her tenacity, her ability to get things done with only one goal in mind – complete this mission. At the same time, however, it made nights like these impossible to know what she was really thinking, what she really wanted.

He watched her back as she perched on her side of the bed, watching the fish fluttering in the tank. The eels he had bought her for her birthday a month previous glided through the water, their strange bodies pulsing as they moved. The sunfish fluttered in and out of plant life anxiously, as they always had.

Everything was the same as it had been two hours ago. Everything besides Shepard.

"Garrus?"

Garrus returned his gaze to her back, the only thing she was allowing him to see. "I don't understand," was all he said. He sat up from where he had been lying on her bed, the sheets pooling in his lap.

Shepard finally turned her head so that she was staring at him over her shoulder. She looked cold, calculating. It was an expression he had seen a million times on missions, directed at the _bad guys. _He had never seen it leveled at him. "Why are we doing any of _this_," she emphasized, as if that would help him understand.

Garrus cleared his throat, trying to buy time. He mentally went back through the past few days, trying to see if there was anything he might have done to suffer this anger. Other than Thessia being lost, other than the impending doom that faced them all… there was nothing he could think of.

"If we're going to get into an argument, can I at least put some pants on?" he finally said, allowing a hint of humor to filter through his tones. Humor always worked with Shepard, even when it wasn't particularly funny.

Shepard turned away again, shaking her head, before she pushed off of the bed. She stepped into a pair of lounge pants along with a tee shirt, her shoulder-length hair mussed and tousled from bed. She turned to him just as he finished putting his pants on, her eyes just as calculating as they had been.

"Well?" she demanded. Her arms crossed over her chest as she waited, eyes like hammers that seemed intent on breaking his heart.

Garrus took a breath. "I don't know what you want me to say, Shepard," he finally replied, his voice calmer than he felt. "I thought we were doing this because we cared for one another. I thought we were…" he broke off, mandibles flaring.

Shepard was emotionless as she watching him. "I care about all of my crew," she answered, voice even. "I care about everyone in this goddamn galaxy. Now give me something more than that."

Garrus was taken aback. He didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know what she _wanted _him to say to her. "Are we… fighting? Is that what this is?"

Shepard shrugged a shoulder. So careless. "I'm just talking. Why do we have to make this into a fight?"

Garrus stepped toward her and Shepard stepped back. He almost faltered, he almost stopped progressing. A second thought made him push forward. Shepard had backed herself against the fish tank and her arms unfurled, reaching out as if to push him back if he got too close.

Garrus ignored her arms – she was strong, but there was no way she was strong enough to keep him at bay. He stopped just as her hands brushed his chest plates. He reached out with a talon, tilting her face up to meet his. "Care to tell me why you're so angry?"

"This is pointless," Shepard whispered, her hands dropping to her sides. "Us. There's no way we're both surviving this."

"What does that matter?" Garrus murmured softly, moving in to nuzzle her cheek with his face. Shepard turned her face away, lips pursing. "Shepard? What does it matter if we both die, or one of us dies? We've known the risks since day one."

"I can't…" Shepard broke off, closing her eyes. Her long, dark lashes made crescents against her pale cheeks. "I can't keep letting myself be distracted. I need my head in this completely. I can't be worrying about you and trying to take down Cerberus, and destroy the Reapers…"

"I never asked you to worry about me," Garrus interrupted.

"No, but I do," Shepard breathed. She opened her eyes and they were swimming in unshed tears. "I can't do this anymore. It's too painful. I can't juggle the roles of _Commander, Spectre,_ and _girlfriend_ anymore. I just… I can't do it. It's too much. Something has to give."

Garrus nodded slowly, stepping back from her. She was still standing strong, but her mask of uncaring was gone. It had slipped the moment the tears showed up. "I get it."

"Garrus," she whispered, her brows knitting together. A single tear managed to escape, dropping from her lower lashes and soaking into the black of her tee shirt.

"I get it, Shepard." Garrus steeled himself to the emotions that threatened to tear him apart. He had never anticipated this; not ever. What they had was true and it was real and he knew she had felt it, too. He had never second guessed them. He had never second guessed _her. _

He did the only thing he could think of – he began walking. He grabbed his civilian tunic off of her couch, pulling it down over his head before he moved toward the door. He couldn't face her, not right now. Even when she called out his name, sounding so apologetic and so distraught. Even when he heard her bare feet padding across the floor as she tried to come after him.

He got into the elevator and pressed the Crew Deck right as Shepard made it to her doorway. She stood there watching him, something like regret flitting across her face. It was the same regret he had seen when she had admitted to sabatoging the genophage. The same regret she had displayed when she gunned down Kaidan and Udina at the Citadel.

She looked at him as if it was the last time she would see him.

He tried not to think about it as he stared back. The elevator doors whirred closed, seemingly in slow motion, and he was transported down to the third level.

He stepped off of the elevator, moving through the empty mess hall. He ignored Chloe as she waved from the Med Bay, her face always hopeful that he might come in and speak with her. Instead he went directly for the Main Battery.

He locked the door, something he had never felt the need to do. Instead of going to the terminal, he made a beeline for the small cot he had set up in the forward bulkhead. He reached under the pillow, pulling out the small satin box, flipping it open.

Inside, the ring gleamed prettily. The design on the white gold was something he had to have custom-made for Shepard. After learning a bit about her Irish heritage, he had found the human design that seemed to accentuate everything about their relationship.

The Claddagh. Two hands for friendship. A crown for loyalty.

A heart for undying love.

He clutched the box in his talons, feeling the thing reduce to shreds, the metal of the ring stabbing against his hand mockingly. Only then did he allow himself to believe that Shepard and Vakarian hadn't been as strong as they had thought.

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Author's Note:

This was actually unbearably hard for me to write, but I enjoyed every second of it! I hope you all enjoyed as well ! If you need a little pick-me-up after this depressing bit of fiction, you can always check out my other happy, feel-good Garrus/Shep one-shots!

Love love,

E.


End file.
